


microwaved fiji water

by demon_ducks (uruhead)



Category: Good Game - Fandom
Genre: Drug Use, First Kiss, M/M, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 12:22:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12058902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uruhead/pseuds/demon_ducks
Summary: Alex loves Ryland. It's as simple as that. Sometimes like a "platonic life partner," sometimes like he's... he's more. And he likes it when Ryland looks at him.





	microwaved fiji water

He could imagine it. Ryland pulling his hair back and binding it up, sat on Alex's thighs, looking down at him with that droopy gaze of his. He could... he could feel his eyes on him, like dripping, thick paint down his chest as his eyes travelled. His weight on Alex's legs like heat packs, his soft stomach pressed to Alex's own. Felt like feathers and a hand pressed against behind them, softness and... and warmth, and the weird tickle of something against the hair on his body.

Maybe that was the alcohol mixing with the weed. Everything tended to get all... muddled up there, like someone was grinding herbs in the bowl of his skull.

Maybe that's why he was stumbled into Ryland's room, hand pressed against the doorframe, shirt already unbuttoned with these big tears in his eyes, face screwing up like he was about to fucking cry. Which, in all honesty, he was.

He wanted that. The feathers, the heat, the tickling, the paint. He wanted all of it. Wanted to suck the blue out of Ryland and cover him in red, cover him in yellow, make him tickle, make him...

"I juh- just want you to be  _happy_..!"

Ryland wasn't sleeping, setting his phone down on his chest to look at Alex, but... but this was different.

"Dude, how high are you?" he murmured.

Alex didn't answer. Instead stumbling farther into Ryland's room and collapsing at the end of the bed, putting his hands on Ryland's knees. "I just want you to be happy, man, I can't... I can't stand seeing you so sad anymore."

"I have depression. You can't fucking fix me with a couple of choice words, man. We had this discussion."

Alex's face screwed up even tighter, blinked his eyes before his tears were dripping down his cheeks. "I... I-I..!"

Ryland sighed. He set his phone to the side and waved his hands motioning for Alex to come closer. "Come here, man. You're too high to think about this stuff right now."

... He  _was_ , wasn't he? Too high. Sometimes this happened when he mixed his vices, where his brain melted out of his fuckin' ears and he couldn't think. That's why Ryland was there. That's why... that's why Alex wanted to make him happy, he was  _so_...

Alex crawled up the bed, shaking and sniffling. Trying so hard to save face, try to fucking stop crying like a baby. But Ryland took it in stride, cupping the back of his head and pulling him down into an embrace, letting him cuddle to his side over the blankets, feel Alex's snot and tears get his shirt soaked.

Slowly, Ryland pulled his hair out of Alex's face, shushing him. Keeping his hair away from the snot and the tears, even getting him to sit up so he could grab a hairbinder and pull his hair into a ponytail at the nape of his neck, something loose so it wouldn't give him a headache. There was something caring and soft in his movements, that warmth, the feathers, and he felt something different when Ryland's droopy gaze drifted over him. Like someone microwaved Fiji water so it was nice and warm, let it flow over his skin in a smooth glaze.

Maybe that's why Alex leaned forward and kissed him. That feeling of being covered in such light fluid, nothing as heavy as paint. It was caring, cleansing. Not meant to be heavy like his fantasy before. And Ryland laughed, deep and hearty, when he pulled back and rubbed his face from the tears and the snot that got stuck to his moustache and beard, squinting at him with a giggle.

"Don't fuckin' do that, man, you're not in your right mind."

Still not mad.

"I'm- I'm arguably in my  _rightest_ mind." Alex put his hand to Ryland's face, smoothing back over his hair, his ear, down to his neck, over his shoulder. Imagining that he could feel every freckle on his shoulders like braille, that they spelled out something beautiful like Shakespeare or Frank Herbert's  _Dune_. He wanted to read every single word, every which direction.

"I can see you getting higher," Ryland huffed, smiling softly. He pushed away Alex's hand from his shoulder.

"I'm in love," Alex said, hushed. "With you. I'm in love with you."

"You're not."

"I am!" Alex's head swiveled up to look at Ryland in the eye, his brain spilling out, liquid over the lip of his empty skull-cup. Down his spine, like wine dripping down his fucking back, pooling onto the bed. The slight burn of alcohol, these weird sparkles. Not wine. Champagne.

Ryland looked at him with a slightly pained expression. Maybe disappointed.

"Champagne love. Specific, from- France. France-  _Champagne_ , France love, where it's weird and light and airy and I love you."

"You don't," Ryland huffed. "You're high, that's what you're in love with."

"I'm not. I'll prove it to you. I'll... I'll be in love with you in the morning, I'll stay here,  _forever_ \- forever is nothing to me,  _nothing_ because you're everything, you're-  _everything_ to me, you're my... you're my everything."

Alex felt his eyes drop to Ryland's mouth again before he saw Ryland's mouth, and blinked hard a few times to try to get this feeling to go away. He wanted to see every reaction. Wanted to see Ryland's smile. Wanted to feel his mouth everywhere.

"You're super high, Alex." Ryland caught his chin with his fingers. "I'm sure you're very... very happy with our relationship, or whatever it is, but you're not in love with me."

...

How could he say that?

More tears came to Alex's eyes, chin tightening to form those weird little wrinkles that felt like worms, and his body turned to putty, melting like that- that Ghibli film, with the guy that turned into the big bird, and the dog--

"Don't cry, man, it's okay--"

How could he SAY that!? He didn't  _understand_ , he didn't know, he couldn't put words in Alex's mouth and expect for him to just swallow them down without a fight..! He wanted... He wanted to...

Again, he surged forward, pushing his mouth against Ryland's and his nose into his cheek, squeezing his eyes shut so tight they burned, burned enough to fucking burn his entire face, burn away the tears--

"Alex, stop it, you're not--"

"I want it, I want  _you_ , I want t-to make you- you believe me, _believe me,_  I love you so fucking much, Ryland, I love you,  _I love you_ \--"

Ryland sighed against his mouth, brows furrowed and face a little screwed up as he tried to pull away, but. But he... he cupped Alex's head in his hands, thumbs right in front of his ears, and Alex cried harder. Something solid, finally.

"Stop, Alex. You need to go to sleep."

... y-yeah... yeah, he did.

...

"C-can you get me some water..?" he asked, feebly.

"Yeah. Yeah, I can get you some water. Stay here, okay?"

\--

His head throbbed in the morning, but his back was warm. All of him was warm. And when he stretched, he found the solid form of Ryland behind him, an arm gently placed over his waist, cupping his hips with his own. Alex realized his head was pillowed on the crook of Ryland's elbow, and he whispered an apology to whatever bloodflow there was before.

Alex turned his body around entirely. Creating a little gap where the morning air could get between them, where he could put his hand on Ryland's chest, look at him and see his eyelashes fanned out across his cheeks. Freckled cheeks.

Freckles. Braille.

_Dune_.

"Have you ever read  _Dune_?" Alex croaked.

One of Ryland's eyes opened and his mouth clicked shut, frowning. He shook his head and closed his eye again, turning so he could press his face into his arm.

"It's good. I'll lend it to you sometime."

...

And then he leaned in again. Tip of his nose pressed against Ryland's cheek, kissing his upper lip with the stupid scruff of his moustache, then down to his lower lip where he could introduce the slight pucker of his mouth against Ryland's.

He didn't remember much, but he remembered that. Champagne.

Ryland turned his head again, opening both of his eyes this time with a big, dramatic sigh. Alex pulled back with a bright smile, because... of course.

"Your breath stinks," Ryland grumbled.

"Yours isn't much better."

He slid his arm under Ryland's cupping his shoulder blade and scooting closer. But Ryland rolled onto his back, grimmacing and rubbing at his eyes.

"Maybe we should brush our fuckin' gobs before we make out, then."

_Gasp!_  "Reaaally?"

"No, we're gonna race turtles, Alex. Yes, let's go fuckin' brush our teeth. Maybe make breakfast, too."


End file.
